Yesterday, we woke up in Averio, Portugal to a sky blackened by a number of forest fires
in the interior (please see the photo). It was unexpected; inconvenient and, heaven forbid,
caused us to alter our plans. Later, the same day, my son called me from Canada. And I
apologized to him.
Let me explain as the two are linked.
My son, along with his band (Selfish Things - you can link it here - and yes, Dad’s
shameless promotion) were on their first tour across Canada in 2017 when they got caught in a large forest fire on the border of Alberta and British Columbia. Their 2002 Ford Econoline’s AC had failed, and while pulling a heavy trailer, they were forced to drive with at least some open windows in between flames on both sides. Soot and ashes blackened the sky, and soon penetrated the interior of the van. The band members ended up using whatever they could find to make masks for their mouths and eyes. It lasted for hours.
When he told me the story a few days later, I did the usual parental thing, expressing
sympathy and offering best wishes. Then I steered the conversation into more practical matters, such as how was the money holding out; what where the crowds like, and so on and so forth.
My significant other and I have now had a similar experience as my son did seven years
ago, though the first day was not quite as intense. Yesterday, masks were essential in the city
as ashes littered the streets. Our hotel window was covered when we woke this morning.
Today, driving to the Douro valley, there were multiple fires, one lipping the side of the road we were on. We drove through areas that had been burnt in the past 48 hours. Later, we were diverted by police because of a fire across our planned route and had to climb some treacherous and narrow roads for over ten kilometres to get back on track. As I sit here writing this, I can see flames across the valley with several other fires on various hilltops.
The past two days have made me realize just how cavalier my attitude has been about
forest fires and their devastating impact. It’s one thing to read the morning news - or hear your son’s harrowing tale - and then turn to the sports section or the financial news for what is really important. It’s another to have seen, felt, breathed and frankly, been frightened by what you’ve witnessed and experienced. And I’m lucky. We made it to the hotel. We’re sitting on a balcony overlooking fires that will impact local people’s lives for days and weeks, if not months and years.
So, apologies to my son. Apologies to all the Canadians who have been so
tremendously affected by wild fires. Apologies to the Portuguese who have been so welcoming and warm. It’s a long list so I’ll stop now. I now know better.
Finally, I started this with the phrase ‘lessons learned’. I’m a writer. Among other topics, I
write fiction about apocalyptic events. I will continue to do so. But, I believe I need to do it with a greater understanding of what my characters are living through, even though it’s a hell I created.
I owe it to them. I owe it to you, my readers. Finally (my second finally, I know), I owe it to the
world I see outside my window. A world we need to take the best care of that we can. We all
owe it to good old Mother Earth.
(P.S. Since I wrote this, a full Moon has appeared. It has lit up a line of flame, visible from our
room. The local news has reported the death of three firefighters…no words…).
(Another update from this morning - we were wondering what the sound was only to witness two water bombers make run after run on the Douro river and head towards the flames in the mountain).
Comments